The Sweet Scent of Blood

many of them had disposable lives.

Under the rainbow sparkles of a huge crystal chandelier, the geriatrics wove and dipped like faded flowers swaying in the breeze. They were mostly female, partnering each other, but a few lucky ones were being swung round in the arms of vampires masquerading as soldiers, sailors and airmen from the Second World War, all looking authentic right up to their slicked-back, Brylcreemed hair—so long as you ignored the fangs. As I watched, the tempo of the music changed and the dancers stopped weaving and instead they rushed past each other across the floor, feet blurring as they executed fast, jumping steps.

‘Looks complicated.’ I smiled at Debbie.

‘It’s a foxtrot, I think.’ Her nose wrinkled prettily. ‘But seeing as I’ve got two left feet, I might be wrong. that’s why I’m stuck here.’

‘Right. Get into many collisions, do they?’

‘Nah, most of them are old hands.’ The permanent wave of Debbie’s brown hair bounced as she laughed. With her bright red lippy matching the hot venom-induced blush in her cheeks, she looked like a throwback to the nineteen forties. Even her heavy green wool uniform with its brass buttons and the sensible laced-up brogues looked like the real McCoy.

She indicated a tray of wide-mouthed glasses. ‘Would you like a complimentary Blue Heart cocktail? It’s a mixture of blood oranges, raspberries and blueberries.’

The glasses contained a dark red liquid that looked like tired old blood. I picked one up and gave it a tentative sniff, managing not to poke my eye out on the blue paper umbrella. ‘No alcohol?’

She shook her head. ‘We don’t serve alcohol at the Blue Heart. It’s part of our healthy living policy to prepare ourselves and our bodies for the Gift.’

‘Sounds great,’ I said, eyeing the neat punctures on her neck as I handed her the glass back, ‘but I think I’ll pass.’

The trombone blasted itself into an ending. There was enthusiastic clapping, and the musicians started what even I recognised as a lively waltz.

She gave me an apologetic smile. ‘A lot of the regulars don’t like it.’ She leaned in, whispered, ‘Some of them bring their own, y’know, like the old biddy over there next to the pillar.’

The old biddy, her hair rinsed a bright shade of lilac, sat behind her voluminous handbag, topping up her glass from a small silver hip flask. As she carefully screwed the top back, the Blue Heart stamp looked like a dark wound on the back of her hand.

‘It’s probably gin, or vodka. The cloakroom staff pretend not to notice,’ Debbie confided in a low voice. ‘I mean, it’s not like they’re going to get the Gift at their age, is it?’ She gave a low laugh. ‘Who’d want to spend immortality looking old and decrepit? Not that any of the Masters would sponsor them anyway.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘So why d’they bother coming?

She held up her own stamped hand. ‘See, the stamp says you’re willing, so it’s just a bit of a thrill for most of the old ones, and they get the extra points, along with the health benefits. There’s more than enough customers that most of them never get fanged anyway. The last thing the management wants is one of the tea-cosy brigade pegging it from a heart attack or something.’

Looked like I owed Katie one. Debbie was just the person to ask about Melissa . . . if I could just bring the conversation around to asking about her.

‘Y’know, if you’re planning on becoming a regular’—she took a sip of the drink I’d handed her back—‘you ought to get yourself a Blue Heart membership card.’

The music headed for a crescendo. A vamp in a white sailor-suit lifted his elderly partner’s feet right off the floor, and got a kick in the shins for his consideration.

‘It’s not just for the points, you get a discount on the entrance fee and in the shop too.’ Debbie’s face lit with eagerness. ‘And if you save up enough points, you get to pick which vamp you want for a date. I’ve got my eye on this new French vamp. He looks really cool, wears his hair tied back with a bow, and has these really hot velvet jackets and—’

‘Great, but I was wonder—’ I tried interrupting her.

Debbie was on a roll. ‘I could join you up if you wanted,’ she gabbled on with the zealous look of someone ready to clinch a deal. ‘You get like a plastic pass card. It’s only a few questions and you get to—’

More to shut her up than anything, I produced the Earl’s silver invitation and held it up.

Her mouth stopped working, but not for long. ‘Oh, wow, oh look! It’s a silver one, and it’s got a jewel in it!’ She peered at the card. ‘I’ve never seen that one before. Whose is it?’

I looked myself, saw the black gem. Not the Earl’s, then.

‘Malik al-Khan.’ As I said his name, a sensation like silk brushed over my skin, making my pulse jump. Damn. Maybe speaking his name aloud hadn’t been such a great idea.

‘Oh, I’ve seen him, yum, he’s totally cute, but terrifying, if you know what I mean.’ She finished her drink with a gulp.

Movement caught my eye. Lilac Hair was doing the finger waggle at someone.

Debbie seemed lost in some inner thought, so I grabbed the opportunity. ‘You worked here long, Debbie?’

‘’Bout four months.’

‘So you’ll know everyone that works—’

‘Oh my God, you’re really her aren’t you?’ She clutched her hands together in excitement. ‘Oh my God, this is amazing. Your eyes are real, not lenses—I thought you were just one of the fakers.’ Her scarlet lips twitched in derision. ‘They think it’ll get them noticed, but, of course, they can tell the difference. But your eyes are really real, aren’t they?’

‘Last time I looked, yeah.’ At last I sensed a way in. I frowned. ‘Hey, what about that Mr October’s girlfriend? I heard she was a faker.’

She looked puzzled. ‘Melissa? No, she—’ She stopped, her face closing up. ‘Oh, we’re not supposed to talk about that, just to say how tragic it was. But’—she glanced behind her—‘there’s something funny about all that. I mean, they were an item, her and Mr O, and don’t get me wrong, he’s really cute, but he’s only been a vamp for a couple of years and Mel was aiming a bit higher. She was always lording it, only just lately she’d gone all secretive, kept getting this look, y’know, like the cat that’s found the double cream.’

‘So you don’t think Mr O killed her?’

‘Oh yes,’ Debbie nodded, ‘everyone says he did, ’cause he was jealous. I mean, they all fancied her.’ Her expression turned envious. ‘The Earl, those Irish brothers, Louis, that’s the new French vamp I like, Malik, he’s the scary one—’ She ticked the names off on her fingers. ‘Even Albie hung around her, that’s him over there, and he’s gay.’

A vampire dressed in the male version of Debbie’s green uniform was holding Lilac Hair’s hand. Albie had obviously been the recipient of the finger waggle. Lilac Hair looked like she was just as much a chatterbox as Debbie—good thing really, because Albie didn’t look the talkative type. Unsurprisingly, he did look familiar though—Albie was Mr June—and another fully paid-up member of the fang-gang from Sucker Town.

I wondered briefly whether his uniform still itched.

One of the trumpet players stood and blew a loud blast of notes.

‘And there was something else about Mel,’ Debbie whispered into the ensuing silence. ‘She kept disappearing, like, nobody could find her, then she’d pretend she’d been there all along. She freaked me out once.’ She crossed her arms. ‘She actually told me something I’d done that I’d thought no one had seen.’

Before I could ask what she meant, more enthusiastic clapping erupted, then the pensioners turned as one, heading straight towards us like stampeding goblins.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw Albie drop Lilac Hair’s hand, stand up and stare straight at Debbie. My pulse jumped and I looked back just in time to catch the mind-lock falling over her face.

Shit.

She grabbed my arm, flashed her fake fangs in a grin. ‘Break time.’ I didn’t want to hurt her, so I let her drag me behind the drinks table. ‘Better move quick or you’ll get run down in the rush.’ She pushed me towards the fire- exit. ‘Go that way, it’s a shortcut.’